Table, Anyone?



© 2013 Jeanne E Webster.  All rights reserved


Life is an ever-changing kaleidoscope, and for most of us women our first colorful formatting began months before birth. That phase was the preparation of a cute little nursery containing a changing-table. We don’t remember but have seen photos and heard stories about that table. It was loaded with all the gotta haves:  drawers stuffed with wash cloths, receiving blankets, undershirts, nightgowns, bibs and tons of diapers. The top was the cleanup and/or changing area, cluttered with jars of baby oil, baby powder, wipes, cotton swabs, baby lotion and the tiny comb and brush.


Quickly outgrowing that scene, we shifted into the bright “I’m Mommy’s big girl now” table, strewn with Barbie dolls, stuffed dolls, dolls that walked & talked, dancing dolls, crying dolls, doll clothes of every sort and color, crayons and colored pencils, paper doll cut-outs, coloring books, little reading books and an over-sized doll house for little people in-residence… for a while.


Having held a bye bye rummage sale for our doll collection, we splished and splashed into teen hood with a vanity table, full mirror, racks of lipsticks, drawers of powder makeup, liquid makeup, mascara of sexy black shades, jars of Noxzema face cream and acne preparations, perfumes, the latest deodorants, photos of boyfriends taped on the glass sealed with a kiss of the reddest lipstick we could find, a hand mirror with a flip zoom lens to get those close-up shots of the back of our fancy hairdos, and the ever-present bobby pins and hair clips to control the stray unmanageable hairs.



A few years after high school graduation, the sparkling vanity table lost its luster due to the addition of a brilliant husband and vibrant children. We parted easily with the radiating frills of yesteryear to concentrate on family. The table now spun a different scene, and the old photos were long gone along with the acne preps. Maybe the two were connected in some way? Hair curlers, perm rods, scarves and lots of hair products played their parts now: sprays, softeners, firmers, high lighters and ultra-controllers. With a growing family, we had less time to color at the table. Family was our main priority and love.


The middle-age vanity table made its entrance years later with a slowing down of the sparkling revolutions. Crisp, clean crocheted table scarves and miniature lamps with smokestack looking shades replaced the “shake rattle and roll” scene. A tabletop makeup mirror was added to enable the user to repair damaged areas due to the aging process. Makeup flavors were fewer now; we were done with the experimental stages and settled in with our favorites. Less time was spent sitting in front of the table as we became enraptured with soap operas, chatting with friends on the phone, or baking new recipes in our spic-and-span kitchens. What a ride we had had; what brilliant, beautiful scenes of life we experienced.


Where did the pretty lights go? One day we waken in bed to a small bedside table holding a glass of water, 6 bottles of prescription medicines, two or three cough drops, a cell phone, a TV remote, a small flashlight and one of the old miniature vanity table lamps. My, how time has changed things!


Bad Hair Day



 What do you do when you experience a bad hair day? It can really get you off to a bad start unless you have access to a lot of attractive caps or hats. Ladies, it may not be a bad idea to keep an affordable easy care wig on your closet shelf.                                                    

This is a true experience about my worst hair day. It all began with a routine home perm. In my mid teens I had frequent perms done by my mom. My perms started when just a toddler with a Tonette. I had no reason to believe this hair treatment would have different results than all the rest.

She did the perm and then I rolled my hair on rollers for the night. The next morning I got dressed for school and began to style my hair. Something went terribly wrong! I could hardly get a brush or comb through my hair! It seemed to Mom that she had gotten the perm solution and neutralizer switched. My hair was fried!      

 How could I go to school looking like a freak? I know Mom felt terrible. I stood before the bathroom mirror crying and trying to do something, anything with my hair. I remember nothing about going to school that day. I could not hide forever. I remember getting it cut very short soon after and rolling it on very small rollers, which created a cute style. It eventually grew out.

My hair was not the issue. Dad was the highlight of the incident. That morning before school as I stood before the mirror crying, Dad came up behind me and started brushing my hair. He really understood the way I felt and did the only thing he knew to help–he brushed my hair. He did not have a magic touch; my hair still looked terrible. Yet, I knew that my Dad cared. That is what every daughter needs most. It does not take away all the problems of life; it does take the sting out of the wounds.          

Moms are usually there to help girls with their hair, clothes and makeup. In a pinch a tender-hearted Dad can really make a difference, maybe not on the outside, but in your heart where it really counts!

by Pam Ford Davis